Brother, Boyfriend, Lover
by polishamericanhero
Summary: Summer is over, and as much as he dreads it, Arthur has to go back to the living Hell known as school. But something's a bit different this year, the infamous Francis Bonnefoy has started to take quite an interest in Arthur, and even his older brother Allistor seems to be acting a bit differently around him... AU Punk!England, ScotEng, FrUk. Rating will go up ;)
1. Chapter 1

**_AN: Hello~! As you may have noticed, this is my first Fanfiction! Well, technically it isn't, but it is the first Hetalia Fanfiction I've posted! I used to write Death Note but I think I like Hetalia better :3 But anyways! I guess I've decided to take a risk here and post a fic mostly centered around ScotEng... I know it's not a very popular pairing, and I don't like the way it's usually written, but I hope you'll give this a chance! I really do like the pairing, just not how it's normally written... So, yeah! I hope you like it! :D There's also some FrUk too! _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia!_**

_The first day of Hell, _Arthur thought to himself with a sigh as he dug through his closet for something suitable to wear. Despite the fact that nobody really cared about what he wore, Arthur was serious about his fashion… God that sounded entirely too gay… Well, not that he wasn't gay, but still… Arthur was serious about the clothes he wore. He made sure that every article of clothing that came near his body was far too tight and ripped in at least three different places. They were uncomfortable, hard to get into and they fucking crushed his balls, but when he looked in the mirror it was always worth it. He loved how he looked in them, he might not go as far as to say he looked sexy but damn he sure did look good. Today he had chosen a pair of red skinny jeans, ripped in several places with a white top to go with it, a faded Union Jack printed on the front. He smiled at himself momentarily in the mirror before quickly running a brush through his hair and grabbing his iPod. Arthur carefully wrapped his ear buds around the iPod, not wanting to deal with the trouble of untangling it later and shoved it into his pocket.

"Artie!" He heard his older brother call from the other room.

"Yeah?" Arthur responded, leaving his room. Allistor was just fixing his tie, about ready to leave for work. Arthur always thought his brother looked strange in a tie, it just… It didn't suit him. It wasn't right.

"God Artie ye should really change out of those damn punk clothes, ye really want to start off the year wearin' that?" Arthur was told, a vaguely annoyed look on his brother's face. Arthur glared, he loved his clothes. There was no way in Hell he would change just to keep his brother happy.

"It's none of your bloody business what I wear!" he said angrily. This wasn't the first comment Allistor had made on Arthur's choice of clothing, but his attempts at getting Arthur to change never ended well, and he had yet to see success. Arthur wore what he wanted.

"Aye, just sayin', ye look more like a whore every day," he commented casually, "anyway, ye want a ride to school?" Arthur gaped.

"What the hell did you just call me?"

"Ye look like a whore. Now do ye want the ride or not? Make it quick I don't want to be late"

"No I don't want a bloody ride! I'm just fine walking thank you very much!" He scoffed bitterly, sending a glare towards his brother as he pulled on his favorite pair of boots.

"Ye sure? It's just on the way to work," he commented as if he hadn't just called his own brother a whore.

"Yes I'm bloody sure!" He yelled, quickly turning to leave. But before he could storm out angrily as he had intended, he felt a hand on his shoulder stopping him. "What the hell do you want?!" Arthur spun around angrily to see his brother holding up his bag. He flushed in embarrassment; in his rage he had almost forgotten his school bag.

"Ye wouldn't want to forget this would ye?" Arthur quickly snatched the bag away from him, muttering a hostile thank you.

"No problem," came his brothers response with the absolutely most enraging hair ruffling Allistor was practically known for. God Arthur hated it so much when his hair was ruffled. It was demeaning. And he did it in the most irritating brotherly way, but it was just so damn… Condescending. He hated it. "See ye later, Artie"

His hand was swatted away by an angry little Brit and he received a sharp "Piss off" before Arthur quickly stormed off to school, glancing down at his clothes to assure himself he did not look like a whore.

Him and his brother didn't live in the best neighborhood, not in the slightest. The walk to school was a fairly long one, cause who in their right mind would build a school near this place. Definitely not a safe place for children… or even adults really. But the walk to school was much better than having to sit through a car ride with Allistor, who apparently thinks his brother is a whore. God that ride would have been awkward. It would have either been a long, deafening silence, or it would have ended in a shouting match that would ultimately end in Arthur walking to school. He wasn't really interested in either option.

Arthur and Allistor's relationship wasn't exactly close… And this past year they've gotten even more distant, Allistor's sent his message across quite clearly by now. He doesn't care about Arthur. He pretends he does from time to time, but Arthur knew better. He may have taken the role of his parent, but… he never even noticed. When Arthur came home, body stained purple with bruises and dark blood dried under his nose, Allistor didn't so much as ask. The nights he would spend sobbing and crying in his room, he was never interrupted. When he returned home still high as the sky, Allistor just greeted him like everything was normal…Yeah, Arthur definitely got the message. But, however disinterested he seemed in Arthur's life… He could sure as hell still yell at him. Normally the two kept each other at a distance, but… when he was mad there was nothing he did better than yell at Arthur for every little mistake he's ever made… It hurt, the list was long.

Sometimes Arthur would wonder what happened to them. They weren't always like this. When they were younger they were so close, but then that changed… It happened slowly, Allistor started spending less time at home and seemed to avoid Arthur more than usual… But it wasn't until the day their mom died that their bond really broke… When he cried that night, there was nobody there to comfort him… He felt so alone, and longed for his big brother to hug him and tell him everything was alright… But it didn't happen…

… But that's the past, it's not important anymore…

Arthur made it to school just as the first bell rung. He wasn't expecting to actually make it school on time, when he got there there were still plenty of stragglers wandering the halls in search of their classrooms. Tenth graders, he assumed. Arthur pulled out a schedule he had folded neatly into his pocket, noticing with distaste that his boots had been caked in mud. Damn rain, it wouldn't let up all night and left mud puddles littered all across the city.

Glancing at his schedule he saw that he had math first period and sighed. At least he knew where the class was, it was his second year at the school and it was the same room he'd been imprisoned in last year. But he usually skipped math, or sometimes just walked out of the class in front of everyone. So, it really wasn't a very effective prison…

He made it to class just after the bell went off, he would've made it sooner but it was all the way across the school, he didn't even have time to stop at his locker. He dropped his stuff on a desk near the back of the class and sat down. Class started a few minutes later, and of course this teacher wasn't one to give you an easy first day, and dove right into the curriculum. Arthur pulled out his iPod, lacking any interest in the algebra written on the board, and with the iPod came the tangled mess that just this morning had been a neatly put away pair of ear buds… Of course. No matter what he does the little twats would always find a way to knot themselves together in a million different places. They must be having some awfully fun party in there. After a few minutes of tugging and fumbling with the cords, along with some cursing under his breath, the ear buds were finally free and found their way easily to the Brit's ears. As usual, Arthur blasted the music as loud as he could without destroying his eardrums. Probably loud enough to thoroughly irritate those around him, but he really didn't care. He hated them all anyway. The point was, it drowned out the sound of the teacher's words. That was the important part.

Arthur reached into his bag, searching around for a minute before coming up empty handed. After a few more moments of searching, he pulled the bag over to him and looked in it himself. His sketchbook wasn't there. He was sure he put it in last night… Well, isn't that just wonderful. He probably left it lying on his bed or something. Damn it was going to be a long day.

He glances up from his bag and to his dismay, notices two figures he had failed to see when he came in. They were talking and laughing, ignoring the lesson just as much as he was. Arthur immediately shrunk down in his desk, even though they didn't seem to notice him yet. One of them was an albino, talking excessively with his loud, German accent and next to him was the stupid French wanker he knew all too well, laughing with his friend. Gilbert and Francis, it wasn't the full _Bad Touch Trio, _as they had so idiotically named themselves, but it was enough…

Maybe this year they'd leave him alone… But he doubted it. They loved to torment him; he was a favorite target of theirs.

The class ended a bit early, and we were given some time to socialize. But naturally, Arthur doesn't socialize, so instead he starts absently sketching a rose on a lined piece of paper, tuning out the loud American behind him with great difficulty. He had taken out his music, and by this point was regretting it as Alfred the obnoxious idiot's voice was giving him a headache.

"Arthur mon Cher~!" The irritatingly pleasant voice of a certain frog called out to him.

"Sod off," Arthur pulled his stuff together, preparing to get up and walk away, but before he could grab his paper it was picked up and examined by the man in front of him. "Hey! Give that back you bloody wanker!" He shouted, struggling to snatch the paper away from those greedy little hands but to no avail as Francis kept it just out of reach.

"Ah but it's so beautiful~! You're an amazing artist you know~"Francis told him with a smile, one that Arthur could almost believe was genuine. And behind his words, he didn't hear the slightest trace of malice behind them. It almost sounded like he was being… honest. Arthur wasted a few seconds in silent disbelief, before quickly realizing he was being foolish. It was ridiculous to believe Francis was being honest. He was Francis, the prick who had been tormenting him for years, probably a master at the art of lying. He could twist his words to get anything he wanted, and he did. Gilbert and Antonio weren't nearly as bad as him. Those two just throw insults around, along with a few punches. Well… More than a few actually… But Francis… He never laid a hand on Arthur. Or on anyone really. His way was so much more… devious… sly… With a much more lasting effect on the victims. It was more than just words like _worthless _and _faggot, _both of which had been permanently intertwined with Arthur's own name, but his were… They were just worse; we can leave it at that…

"Can't you go bother someone else?" Arthur demanded, finally grabbing the paper back from the Frenchman. Why did he have to draw a rose? That's probably what attracted the prick's attention. Francis loved roses. Arthur quickly crumpled the picture in his hands and tossed it to the trashcan, feeling a wave of humiliation as he didn't get anywhere near it and was forced to go pick it up and put it in the garbage. Francis chuckled. In his stupid French way.

"Je m'excuse Arthur, I honestly didn't mean to bother you! I just thought your drawing was so beautiful~ Almost as beautiful as you~!"

… Arthur quickly shot him a glare, "I don't want to hear it you bloody frog," he spat, "I wish people like you would just die," and with that Arthur ditched the class, just as the bell rang. If he was lucky, he wouldn't have any other classes with him.

But naturally, Arthur was not lucky. Far from it actually, the boy was tragically unlucky in almost every aspect. As he made his way to his next class, he actually felt a small spark of excitement. Next was cooking, and if Arthur loved anything, he loved to cook. He did it whenever he got the chance. Although Allistor usually insisted on cooking… Arthur never really understood why. But when he got to the class, he found that little light of excitement was immediately extinguished. There he was, that damn frogface again, invading the class he had been so looking forward to. Antonio was there too, but he seemed distracted flirting with some kid in the tenth grade. Arthur smirked in amusement when the Spaniard was outright shot down by the feisty little Italian. But for that class, because Arthur was just _so damn lucky, _he ended up in a group with the Frenchman. The rest of the cooking class was spent trying to ignore the insistent twat. It wasn't easy.

"That bloody teacher hasn't the slightest clue what he's doing!" Arthur fumed, violently dropping his lunch next to the boy at the nearly empty lunch table, causing him to flinch. Arthur took the seat next to him, not noticing.

"Uh… W-who…?" The boy stuttered quietly, glancing to Arthur.

"Mr. Adnan! He had the nerve to tell me I can't cook! _ME!_ I bet he's just jealous! He's jealous because his own student can cook better than he can! Damn wanker!" The Brit complained, knowing that his cooking skills are were far superior. And his food sure as hell did _not_ taste like vomit! "I heard he has a thing with that guy from Greece," Arthur said after swallowing a mouthful of his lunch, "hopefully the wanker will be fired. Then this stupid school can get a teacher that actually knows what bloody good cooking is!" The Canadian boy just nodded, poking at his lunch with a fork. He had gotten used to Arthur's rants and had learned to just wait them out. He also didn't find it worth mentioning that Arthur's cooking really did taste like vomit… And that was being generous; vomit would probably be a preferable option…

"And that stupid bloody frog hasn't left me alone all day! He's just been following me around like a damn lost puppy! If he thinks we're friends now the bastard is dead wrong, I would never be friends with someone like him. And he can't just go around complimenting me all day; I know he doesn't even mean it! He's just trying to play with me like the stupid asshole he is!" Arthur had to stop his rant at this point, as he couldn't remember when he last took a breath. His eyes were fixed on the Frenchman across the room, gaze full of hatred and he seemed about ready to murder the guy.

"Yeah… He's, uh… He's pretty mean…" Matthew commented, even though he was one of the few people who hadn't felt the wrath of the infamous Bad Touch Trio. He knew of it, he'd seen it, but… They seemed almost indifferent to Matthew… Just like, well, everyone else… He was never bothered. Not ever, and well… That actually bothered him more than he would admit…

"Oh, he's more than just mean! He's an evil, sadistic, idiotic, disgusting, perverted-"

"Bonjour~!" The blond man smiled as he interrupted Arthur's rant, taking the seat across from him, "I see you're talking about me~?"

"Sod off!" Arthur yelled, standing up angrily and letting out a small grunt of pain as he had gotten up a bit too hastily and hit his leg on the table.

"Oh but mon petit lapin! There's no need-"

"I'm not your little fucking rabbit you git! Just leave me the hell alone!" He almost screamed and stormed away, slightly disgusted at his own knowledge of the French language. He wasn't interested in spending the next few hours avoiding the damn frog that just won't leave him the hell alone, so instead he picks the better option and decides to just return home early. Francis just sighed and went back to his friends, but by no means does that mean he was giving up. Francis wasn't one to let himself lose, and he knew that soon enough he'd get what he wanted. And Matthew, forgotten at the table, choked down a bite or two of his food before it just ended up in the garbage. Probably where he belonged too.

_**AN: So, what did you guys think? :3 If people like it I'll be posting a new chapter soon... So please review! I'd love to know what you think! :) I apologize that I made the Bad Trio seem like dicks by the way, I do love them a lot and they won't stay like that forever, promise!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN: Ahh I'm sorry this chapter took awhile to finish, I've been very busy and haven't really had the time to finish this chapter until now :/ I left the country for a few days and I honestly had next to no free time, my apologies! But as of now, I'm going to try to at least have a chapter out every week! :D But anyways, I'm so glad people seem to like this! Thank you to all you lovely people who reviewed, favorited and followed, I really appreciate it! You guys are all awesome! XD I don't know how you people keep finding this, I just keep getting emails from Fanfiction about this one :P But yeah, enjoy the chapter! **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia! If I did, you can bet it would be a lot smuttier :P **_

The Kirklands were fighting again. Matthew could hear it even from outside, where he stood with his fist in the air, prepared to knock… And where he continued to stand, hand not going anywhere near the old wood of the door. He'd been standing like that for a few minutes now; he had first paused when he heard the sound of shouting from the other side of the door, and had reconsidered knocking. With a sigh, he finally lowered his hand. The yelling didn't seem to be coming to an end anytime soon. From what he could tell, the fight seemed to be something about Arthur skipping school. Matthew had no intentions of interrupting another one of the brother's fights; they were far from a pleasant experience. He had been caught in the middle way more times than he would have liked, by the end of them Arthur was usually locked in his room and Matthew had to force some awkward conversation with the elder of the Kirkland brothers. But with some time the conversations usually got a bit less awkward, and the two developed something along the lines of a friendship. If you could call it that.

So, instead of forcibly putting himself between the brothers, he decided to just wait it out and sunk down to a sitting position, back pressed against the door. If he had a choice, he would've just left, but…I guess you could say his options were limited. So Matthew just sat there, every few seconds having his eardrums assaulted by another enraged scream from inside the house. A few of the louder ones caused Matthew to flinch a bit. God Matthew hated fighting…Why was everyone always fighting? Couldn't people just get along and be nice to each other…? Was it really that hard? But, Matthew wasn't stupid and he knew that wasn't how the world worked. As much as he didn't like it, he knew the world could be a very hateful place…

"I CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT ALLISTOR YOU'RE NOT MY BLOODY FATHER! NOW WOULD YOU STAY THE HELL OUT OF MY LIFE?!" Matthew jumped in surprise as the door was thrown open behind him to allow and angry Brit to storm out of the house. But, as luck was never on Arthur's side, instead of making his point and stomping his way out of the house, he tripped over the boy seated in front of the door and his face slammed against the pavement. "Mmph!"

"O-oh, I'm s-sorry…!" Matthew apologized profusely, scrambling to get to his feet, "I d-didn't m-mean to…! I'm s-so sorry…!" He quickly offered his hand to help Arthur up, but it was rejected as the Brit fought his way back to his feet on his own, a hand going to his nose.

"It's fine, Matthew," he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice, "but what the bloody hell are you doing here?" Arthur glared at his friend, not particularly mad at him, but just pissed off in general due to his fucking twat of a brother. Couldn't the bloody git just leave him alone?!

"O-oh… I u-uh… L-locked out… And u-uh…" He stuttered, stumbling on his words when he noticed a trail of blood seeping through Arthur's fingers. The guilt hit him quickly and again he felt the need instant to apologize. "Are you o-okay…? I'm really s-sorry…!"

"I said it's fine Matthew," Arthur stated coldly, none of the bitterness leaving his voice as he turned and walked away, leaving Matthew standing awkwardly at the door. He shot a sharp glare at Allistor as he passed by him, grabbing a handful of tissues to take the place of his now bloodied hand over his nose.

"… Are you coming in?" He questioned after noticing his friend was still standing at the door, unsure if he should leave or not.

"… Can I?"

"Don't be stupid, of course you can," Arthur told him as the tissues were slowly reddened by the blood flowing from his nose like a fucking fountain. Matthew hesitated before stepping inside.

"Ye alright, Arthur?" Noticing the blood Allistor went over to his brother who was hastily grabbing more tissues. A few drops of blood hit the ground before he could cover his nose again with the clean tissue.

"Yes I'm bloody alright you damn git! Now bugger off!" he ordered Allistor furiously as he exchanged his already blood soaked tissues for newer ones. Screw fountains, his nose was a bloody waterfall. Literally.

Allistor sighed, "just makin' sure yer okay Artie, no need to get pissed," if his brother was trying to calm him down, than he sure as hell wasn't doing a good job. If anything, he was achieving the exact opposite as Arthur could feel himself getting more pissed off by the second. How _dare _he say something like that?! _How dare he?! _

"Since when do you bloody care if I'm okay or not?!" Arthur demanded, "since when do you give a fuck what the hell happens to me?! YOU DON'T ALLISTOR SO YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT!" Allistor looked slightly appalled at this little outburst.

"… Artie I'm yer brother, of course I care!" the elder of the Kirklands stated. No, he lied.

"Oh cut the crap Allistor! I'm not an idiot I know you don't care! And why the hell would you?! So just… Just stop bloody saying things you don't mean!" Arthur yelled boldly before leaving to his room and locking himself inside. He also shoved a dresser in front of the door... Just in case... Shut up, his brother was strong.

He heard his older brother call out to him a few times, and as expected there were a couple attempts to get in the room, all futile. He just ignored him and cranked up his music as high as it would go, effectively drowning out his brother's voice.

After a few minutes Allistor decided it was time to give up, his brother wouldn't budge… He'd have to take care of this later, hopefully when Arthur was in a more reasonable mood. He finally left Arthur's door and returned to the living room, where he caught sight of Artie's friend Matthew standing there, trying to decide if he should leave or not. He was leaning towards just spending a night on the streets when his thoughts were interrupted by an exhausted sounding Allistor.

"Locked out of yer house again?" He asked and received a small nod in response from the younger boy. Allistor sighed. "Well, I don't think Artie will be openin' the door anytime soon… Ye wanna just stay in my bed for the night? I can take the couch," Allistor offered, to which Matthew quickly shook his head.

"N-no thank you, I'll just sleep on the couch…" Matthew quietly denied the offer, not wanting to be rude. He appreciated Allistor's kindness, he really did. Arthur's brother seemed to always make an effort to be nice to him, and he might even go as far as to say he considers Allistor a friend, despite the age difference and the fact that he could sometimes be kind of intimidating. The two had actually had plenty of chances to talk to each other, as this wasn't the first time Arthur had stormed off, leaving Matthew alone with his brother. At first he had just forced some conversation with the older man, but he had actually really grown to like him. He always made Matthew feel welcome here, and he couldn't even say that much about his own home.

"Ye sure? I really don't mind the couch Matthew the bed is all yours," he offered again, and after a few minutes he had finally managed to convince the quiet boy to just take the bed. It was a lot more difficult than it should have been, but no more effort than he had expected.

Arthur wasn't at all surprised when he found his brother to have left from his door. Why wouldn't he have left? It's not like Arthur actually expected the man to stay, he wasn't worth his precious time. The twat knew Arthur was right. He didn't gave a shit what happened to his brother. He was the same old self-centered Allistor that Arthur had grown accustomed to, and his mind told him that wouldn't be changing anytime soon. Although his naïve little heart still wanted to believe the loving brother he grew up with was still buried in there somewhere, and it longed to be held by that brother, it missed him. But his clever mind always squashed those ridiculous thoughts as they came in, not giving them the chance to flourish or turn into something silly like hope, or god forbid _love. _He hated Allistor and that was that. End of story.

Arthur glanced around his room, craving an outlet for all those bloody feelings that just appeared out of nowhere! Keeping them at bay was becoming so much more difficult. But in specific, he could feel his pale fingers lusting for a pencil. He felt the sudden urge to glide his pencil across a smooth, unmarked piece of paper, to mar the pure white of it with the darkness in his mind. He would be glad to satisfy that urge, and quickly grabbed the pencil he always kept nearby, from where it was currently lying near the bed. But it's at that moment he noticed something. And what he noticed... was absolutely horrifying. His sketchbook wasn't there. It just... _it wasn't there. _If there was a competition for things that were there, that sketchbook would come in _dead last _along with that twenty Arthur lost a week ago as they were both just completely and utterly _gone! _That beautiful, thick book full of blank pages that were equally as numerous as the ones already disfigured by the tip of his pencil, was missing. It wasn't in his school bag, it wasn't sitting haphazardly on his bed or lying open on his desk, it was nowhere to be seen in fact. It wasn't even buried deep in the depths of his closet and yes, he did check! Arthur could feel his heart begin to race in his chest as he scoured the room, becoming more frantic with every second he didn't have that paper safe in his grasp. But even after tearing apart the room, he still came up empty handed. The sketchbook was still missing.

I know what you're thinking... This may seem like a little bit of an overreaction... But I assure you, it isn't.

Arthur thought back to the last time he saw it... He was absolutely positive he had left the sketchbook in his bag. There was no doubt in his mind anymore, it had to be at school. There was nowhere else it could be. His beloved sketchbook was hiding somewhere in that god forsaken building. Or even worse, in the hands of one of those bloody wankers attending the school. He shuddered at the thought, hoping to god it would never make it's way to those three people that could _never _see it. Why had he even brought that bloody sketchbook to school?! What the hell had he been thinking?!

Deciding it was time to get his mind off the sketchbook and just who's hands it could potentially have ended up in, Arthur reached over to open his window. He was starting to drift into that paranoid state of mind where his thoughts began wandering to all the possibilities that could come of this... None of them were pleasant.

Arthur took a breath, and with some effort, managed to heave the window up high enough that he'd be able to squeeze his skinny little body through it. A small smirk crept it's way across Arthur's face, twisting up the edges of his lips that were usually content in their default frown. He was pleased with himself, he always felt quite proud every time he forced that heavy window open. He was defying Allistor. And to him, that really was the best feeling of all time. Allistor could try all he wanted but Arthur would never let himself be controlled. Not by anybody, and definitely not by _him._

Ducking his head under the window pane, he grabbed the ledge and slowly pulled himself through, careful not to make any noise to alert his brother of his sneaky departure though. Not that he could get in anyway, but he still didn't want that soulless redhead pestering him. He swung one leg through and quickly bit back a cry of pain as the heavy window collapsed and crashed down on his other leg.

"B-bloody hell!" He stuttered under his breath, attempting to pull his leg free only to be met with another rush of pain through the trapped limb. His teeth dug into his bottom lip and with all his strength he pushed on the window, attempting to free his imprisoned leg. But to no avail... He really did need to work out more... All his strength wasn't enough to so much as budge the window. A groan of frustration escaped his lips and he suddenly heard a horrible sound. Footsteps. But not just anyone's footsteps, those were Allistor's footsteps. He could tell his brother's easily apart from everyone else, nobody walked quite the same way as him. They were approaching the door, right now. He didn't have much time. What the hell would his brother think if he found him like this?He imagined he looked quite stupid at the moment. And the wanker would probably try to ground him.

_Oh don't be stupid you asshat there's still a dresser in front of the door! He won't make it past that!_Arthur reminded himself as he slowly started pulling his leg out from the window, one inch at a time. He felt himself wince a few times in pain, and distantly heard his brother calling his name, but he payed it no mind. After a few minutes, he had successfully freed his leg from it's own personal trap and he tumbled to the ground. The window fell with a loud crash, and if Allistor hadn't been suspicious already, he sure as hell would be now. The boy quickly got to his feet and bolted away, ignoring the pain in his leg as he wouldn't be giving Allistor a chance to catch up.

Arthur did know exactly where he was going, he didn't just randomly leave. There was a house party a few blocks away, a friend of his had texted him about it awhile ago. Well... Friend being a very broad term of course.

He read the text over again to be sure he was headed the right way, which he was, and he quickly told his..._friend... _He'd be there soon. His writing disgusted Arthur though, was he incapable of learning basic grammar? And was it really that difficult to spell out words like "Are" and "you" and the like? I don't know, it just annoyed him. Arthur was always careful to write and speak in perfect English.

He reached the house soon later, checking the address again to verify that he's in the right place. Although the action really was meaningless as he could already hear the muffled beat of the overly loud music even from out here, and feel the gentle pounding against the soles of his feet. Yes, he definitely had the right place. The boy sighed, not making a move towards the door yet and instead rolled up his pant leg, as best he could with those damn skinny jeans. Already turning purple... God that sure was one strong window. Or one weak Englishman... He was leaning towards the second one. Again, he really needed to get in shape.

Arthur gently poked one of the dark bruises forming on his leg and immediately regretted it as his leg was assaulted by pain. Gritting his teeth, he eased his pant leg back down and went to the door, not feeling a need to knock. He coughed a little at the sudden bombardment of smoke, and stepped inside. The smoke was really coming from all around, but Arthur did note three people in particular towards the back of the room that seemed to be the source of most of the foggy air in the house. Two guys and one provocatively dressed girl, Arthur hoped by the end of the night he'd have gotten some of that for himself... Not the girl! No! Don't be disgusting, it was the weed he wanted you pervert! Get your head out of the gutter! He wasn't into girls anyway, he really was just as much of a faggot as everyone knew him to be. And those guys weren't even hot! Just some dirty stoners...Literally dirty! Not dirty as in... oh forget it, what does it matter anyway?

"Arthur!" He turned his head as he heard the familiar voice calling his name. And of course, there was Kevin, the one who had invited Arthur to the party. "Hey! Why the hell are you so late?" his friend demanded, and Arthur gave him a simple shrug.

"Sorry, had some trouble sneaking out," Arthur replied as he grabbed at a nearby glass of some sort of alcohol. What kind, he wasn't sure, that information was beyond him. But all that mattered to Arthur was that it was alcohol. He downed it quickly and his throat was immediately ignited in flames by the hard liquor.

"Well whatever, glad you made it," he said as Arthur coughed into his hand. Seconds later, through his minor coughing fit he felt an arm sneak it's way around his little waist. He glanced at Kevin out of the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"You know there's an empty bedroom upstairs if you want to have some fun..." Kevin mentioned with a wink, hand inching it's way closer to Arthur's more private regions. But to his disappointment, the hand was quickly smacked away.

"Do I look drunk enough to sleep with you Kevin, I just bloody got here! Have some respect you git, at least wait until I've had a few drinks before you try getting in my pants!"

"Geez, calm down, you're the one that kept me waiting!You were easy enough last time anyway, so just stop acting like such a fucking prude and get your ass upstairs before some drunk chick decides she wants to get screwed in the bedroom," he said with a rough tug on Arthur's arm.

"Ow! I am not a prude!" Arthur yelled, ripping his arm out of his friends grip, "if you're going to use this attitude then you won't be getting anything tonight!"

"Oh come on, we all know you're nothing but a little whore Arthur, you want it as much as I do, so would you get your ass in the goddamn bedroom already? I don't have all night!"Arthur felt himself wince a little at the word whore, and after a short pause he nodded with a sigh.

"Fine, just meet me in there alright? I at least want to get a little drunk before hopping in bed with scum like you," Arthur said as his hand searched around for something else to drink, locking on to what appeared to be an unopened bottle of scotch.

"Yeah yeah, call me whatever you want, just be quick," the boy lit a cigarette and headed upstairs to wait for Arthur.

Naturally, Arthur took his sweet time downstairs, feeling a tiny bit of satisfaction in making the prick upstairs wait for him. He let the liquor pass slowly through his lips, occasionally taking the time to even spark up a conversation with some acquaintances of his. The minutes ticked by, more alcohol flooded his system and Arthur's vision began to grow blurrier. As he rambled on to one of his best friends, who just so happened to be a potted plant, about some unimportant nonsense, he suddenly remembered he had left his friend waiting for him upstairs! How absolutely rude of him! He hastily muttered an apology to his friend and tottered his way over to the staircase, doing his best to stay upright. Arthur looked up at the staircase, the size of it more than just a little distorted in his drunk haze, and nodded to himself.

_Challenge accepted. _

But in the end, the young British boy never did make it to the top of the staircase...

_**AN: Well, Chapter two is finished! Hope you liked it, and I'd love it if you left a review! :) I will be updating this again as soon as possible! And again, don't forget to review... :3 If I can get enough people to read this my hope is that I'll be able to change the outlook on this pairing! :D Wouldn't that just be amazing~? I really do love ScotEng :)**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_AN: Well... Guess the weekly updates didn't work out, haha... I am so sorry about the long wait for this chapter! D: I will do my best to try and get chapters out more often, cause this one took far too long XD Maybe not weekly updates, but I will seriously try to update this more often, cause I have a lot planned for this! :D Well, anyway, enjoy the chapter!_**

**_Disclaimer: Still don't own Hetalia!_**

_Best way to wake up is with a bottle of whiskey, _Allistor thought to himself, digging through the fridge until his hand closed around a cold glass bottle. He swirled the booze around in the bottom of the bottle, vaguely disappointed when he found it to be nearly empty. But he just shrugged and took a swig from it anyway. The bottle was finished off quickly and he set it down on the counter with a few other empties he hadn't gotten around to cleaning up yet, hearing a soft clang as it brushed against one of the other bottles. He'd have to go out for more tonight... But payday isn't until Sunday... Damn, he wasn't sure if he had enough money, it wasn't looking good for him. He quickly opened his wallet, only to be met with disappointment. Today was not his lucky day, he searched through the wallet only to find a few bucks and a little button that had fallen off his shirt a few days earlier. Why on earth had he bothered to keep that? Like hell he could sew, it wasn't going to be fixed anytime soon. He picked up the button and flicked it away, letting it fall wherever it may. He probably wouldn't see it again, when something hit the floor in this house you could guarantee it wouldn't be back for a visit. The fairies were probably responsible. Damn fairies, stealing his goddamn stuff. He _knew _those buggers were around here somewhere. He'd squash those little shits like a spider if he ever came across one fluttering around _his house. _They better stay the fuck away.

Ah forget about the fairies though, he needed booze. But to his great disappointment, it looked like he wouldn't be getting any. Not until Sunday at least, when he planned to promptly get dead drunk the moment he had his paycheck in hand. Ah, Sunday seemed so far away all of a sudden... He let out a sigh.

Did he have a drinking problem? Aye, probably, but he still had enough money to put dinner on the table every night so what does it matter? You're in no position to judge! Allistor was doing his goddamn best, at least he had finally got off the drugs that had consumed his life since he was fourteen... He was twenty-two now... That shit really was addicting, he wouldn't recommend anyone try it for themselves. Just take his word. Those last years just went by in such a blur, and then all of a sudden he had been plunged into adulthood with the death of his parents... Well, the death of his mother... His father wouldn't be coming back though, he made very sure of that... The man was dead to him anyway, he hoped someday soon that man would be rotting deep in the depths of Hell.

"Good morning, Allistor," he turned to see Arthur's friend carefully walking over to the kitchen, doing his best to avoid the mess on the floor, even if that meant taking a bit of a detour to get there.

"Mornin' Matthew," he greeted the younger boy as he reached the kitchen, "ye want somethin' for breakfast?"

"Oh, no I'm fine thanks!" He politely denied, only to be betrayed by his own stomach as it let out a loud growl. He blushed in embarrassment, "Or, if you don't mind I guess..."

"Aye, don't worry 'bout it Matthew," he said and cleared off the stove to start cooking. "ARTIE! GET UP I'M MAKIN' BREAKFAST!" he called out but received no reply.

Hm... He went over to Arthur's room, attempting to open the door. Still blocked, just like it had been before... He almost forgot Arthur snuck out last night, he'd usually be back by now though. Arthur almost always climbed back through the window at some ungodly hour like three or four in the morning. He thought he was being so quiet and sneaky but the racket he made never failed to wake Allistor up, even if he did tend to wait until morning to yell at him... Cause really, who in their right mind would get out of bed at three in the morning to go yell at their little brother. It could easily wait a few hours, he'd rather fight in the daylight on a full night's rest.

"ARTIE!"

Now that he thought of it though, he hadn't been woken up at all last night... He'd slept peacefully through the whole night... No mini break ins by his little brother to wake him up... Nothing...

… Fuck...

Arthur woke up to a throbbing pain in his head, and he allowed a small groan to escape his lips.

"Bloody hell... What happened last night...?" He asked himself, moving a hand to his head. His eyes finally focused and he looked around exhaustedly, realizing he hadn't the slightest clue where he was. This definitely wasn't the house he'd come to last night... Much too tidy, and far too big... For Gods sake, this one bedroom was practically the size of his own house! Who needed that much space?!

"Ah, Arthur you're awake mon Cher~!" And then his gaze fell on him. Yes, him. Those shining blond locks, which probably had to be washed multiple times a day to keep them looking that absolutely bloody perfect, parted off to the side to show off those beautiful blue orbs of his and... How can some people always look so bloody perfect?! Arthur could never look that damn perfect, he was average looking at best. How absolutely annoying, and he always had to flaunt it too. It wasn't good enough for him just to look good, oh no, he had to rub it in the face of everyone he met before he was satisfied. Everyone had to _know _he was more beautiful than them. Bloody git.

"Where am I." Arthur demanded bitterly, rubbing his aching temple. "and why the hell are you here."

"Well this is my house, of course I'm here~!" he replied, in that stupid accent of his. Why did he have to be so damn _French _all the time_,_ it irritated him!

Arthur gave the room another look. Yes... he could believe that. This place had frog written all over it.

"Why the bloody hell am I at your house?"

"Hmm... Well, I ran into you last night at the party~! You seemed pretty eager to get into my bed, so I thought I'd take you home and let your wildest dreams come true~!"

… There was a few seconds of silence while Arthur let the Frenchman's words sink in...

He quickly sat up straight, regretting the action immediately as the pain reclaimed his head even worse than before.

"What the hell did you do to me you perverted prick?! Couldn't you tell I was bloody drunk?! I would never willingly sleep with a frogface like you!" He gave Francis a hard glare and received a chuckle in return. "What the fuck are you laughing at?!" He fumed.

"I didn't say we slept together mon Cher, I simply brought you back to my bed~! And don't you think you should be a bit more grateful to your savior? You passed out in the middle of the staircase, if it weren't for me you could've easily broken your neck! You should be thanking me~"

"Pfft, like I'd ever thank you! I would've been just fine on my own I'll have you know! I didn't need your help!"

"Ah but of course, I'm sure~! Just a few broken bones, not too bad, oui~?"

"I said I would've been bloody fine, wanker! Not like I haven't broken bones before!" he shouted at the Frenchman, his anger growing by the second, as it always did when he was stuck in a room with this prick.

"Oh I didn't doubt you~! If you're so insistent on proving this to me though I could always push you down the staircase! Then we'll see just how fine you are~"

"... Shut up!" He snapped lamely, unable to think of a good comeback, "I don't need to prove anything to you!"

"Whatever you say~ Can I get anything for you mon Cher?"

"No Francis, I'm fine. But I would absolutely love it if you'd stop calling me your _Cher_" he replied, vaguely proud of himself for controlling his temper so well. He gave himself an imaginary pat on the back for handling the situation so calmly.

"A glass of water? How about some tea? And I have Tylenol if you need it too~"

"... I suppose that'd be fine. But then I'm leaving!" he gave him another glare before the Frenchman left the room.

How the hell had he let himself end up here? He hadn't been that drunk had he? He was just going to have a few drinks and then... and then what? He was sure there was something he was planning on doing... His head hurt when he tried to think of that blank gap in his memories, so instead he just shrugged it off.

But then, a much worse thought came to mind. Much, much worse.

Arthur hadn't come home last night. He'd been passed out at the bloody frog's house and he'd never made it back home. He'd usually make it back around four in the morning and at least get a few hours of much needed rest, and sometimes if he was in bed by morning, Allistor wouldn't even notice his disappearance during the late hours of the night! He really was a genius after all. But anyway, this was just bloody great, his brother would be pissed. Probably think he overdosed or something, that would be so like him, just assume the worst. It's like he thinks Arthur can't take care of himself! He's been on his own for years it's not like he needs some bloody babysitter!

But nonetheless, he should probably still set Allistor's mind at ease... but only because the phone calls would get bloody annoying! Or maybe he'd just let Allistor think he's dead, would serve him right to have that on his conscience for awhile! But that might be a bit too much... he'd send him one text message and that's it! Nothing more!

He dug through his pockets until he found his crappy phone, if he had the money he'd replace it... but for the time being he was stuck with this piece of shit. Not that it matters, he didn't use it all that often. He wasn't some kind of teenage girl or something, he only used it on occasion! Although today he was most definitely expecting an overload of texts to be waiting for him, along with some missed calls. And naturally, he got exactly what he expected. That wanker worried far too much, he should know by now that Arthur could handle himself just fine!

Arthur quickly unlocked his phone and read over the new messages:

_Hey where r u?_

_Were still doin this arnt we?_

_Dude where the hell did u go?_

_Srsly Ive been waiting forever get ur ass up here already_

_I dont have time 4 this shit I have other stuff to do u know_

_Maybe if u started thinking bout other people than urself sometimes ud know that_

_I always fucking hated that about u, selfish asshole_

_Seriously tho u cant just ditch me like that man_

_Ya well fuck u too ill just find sumone else then_

Arthur stopped reading there, god that grammar was atrocious... None of them were from Allistor though, everything was from Kevin, what the hell had pissed him off so much? He was being a bloody prick!

But then he realized... all his messages were from that prick, the missed calls too. Not a single one was from the prick back home. _Not a single one. _

… That wanker didn't even notice he was gone did he?! Of course he didn't, or maybe he just didn't even care enough to bother calling! Couldn't even send one bloody text message, is that how little he meant to Allistor?! Bloody hell, why did he even think he would in the first place?! It's not like he gave a shit whether his brother was there or not, it made no fucking difference to him! That git never gave a fuck about anyone but himself!

"Arthur! Mon Cher why are you crying?"

"I'M NOT!" Arthur snapped at the Frenchman in the door, who had returned with a cup of tea and a Tylenol for the hungover Brit. He wiped at his eyes, to his surprise finding his hands to have grown wet from tears. Why the bloody hell was he crying?!

Francis, quickly but careful not to spill a drop, set the things down on the end table and pulled the Brit into his arms. "Shh, it's alright Arthur," he assured him soothingly, gently stroking his hair, "would you tell me why you're crying?"

Just as quickly as his arms had wrapped around Arthur though he was shoved off, with an attempted glare. "Get your filthy hands off me, you git! I don't need your bloody sympathy, I'm fine! Just fine!"

"You're upset though, I can't allow that! Nobody's allowed to be upset in the home of Francis Bonnefoy!"

"Well then I suppose I'll just have to leave then! I'm sorry if I offended you by being upset in your home, I'll be more bloody careful next time," he snapped out sarcastically and pulled himself to his feet.

"Oh Arthur, you know that's not what I meant! Sit down," Francis told the Brit, pulling him back onto the bed and handing him a cup of tea. "Just drink this~! It'll make you feel better, oui?"

… Arthur let his British side get the best of him and took a begrudging sip of the tea, knowing Francis it was probably drugged or something though. But at this point, he really didn't care, and the warm liquid really did wonders for calming him down. He let out a sigh. "Is that better?"

"... Yes, actually. But I was fine anyway so would you just bugger off?"

"Will you tell me what's upsetting you now?" He asked, ignoring Arthur's not so sharply worded comment to bugger off.

"I told you already, nothing's upsetting me!"

"You did apologize for being upset in my home though..." Fuck, he had hadn't he? Dammit... But he wasn't even upset! Those were tears of anger, nothing more!

"That was sarcasm you idiot"

"Ah but those tears most definitely weren't! And I'm certain those weren't tears of happiness!"

"... Would you just mind your own damn business for once in your life?! Why have you all of a sudden taken such an interest in my personal life?! You should keep your nose out of places it doesn't belong!"

"Oh why are you asking such silly questions? I care about you Arthur, I hate seeing you sad like this!You don't deserve to be sad!"

"... I'm going home"

"Mais pourquoi..?"

"Because I said so! It's none of your business anyway though!" Arthur stood up angrily and felt a hand grip his arm. "What the hell do you want from me?!"

"Your phone number, could you just give me that before you leave?"

"... What?"

"Or at least let me give you mine? Just so that I can be here if you ever need someone to talk to!"

"... Give me your phone"

"Hm?"

"I said give me the bloody phone!" Francis didn't hesitate in handing over the phone this time, although he did consider the possibility it might be just to have it thrown into a wall. He could always just a buy a new one if the phone got too damaged.

… Arthur couldn't believe he was doing this. He took the Frenchman's phone, and in that ridiculously expensive phone of his, which he didn't feel _the slightest _trace of jealousy for because he would never want anything that this wanker had, he wrote down his number. Not a fake number, not someone else's number, but his own actual number. He had no idea what came over him to actually do this, but it was done. He handed the phone back to Francis, knowing perfectly well that he would regret this choice later.

Francis looked at it and smiled, "merci beaucoup~!"

"Yeah yeah, but if you start calling me every bloody day I'm changing the number," he told him as the Frenchman pulled him into an embrace and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"...! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" He yelled, pushing Francis off him.

"Oh it was just on the cheek Arthur, it's not a big deal! There's so many other places I could've kissed you~" He winked, eyes trailing down from Arthur's lips to somewhere a bit lower, making the Brit feel sick to his stomach.

"Oh sod off, I'm leaving!" He stormed out of the room, leaving his phone buzzing on the bed as he searched for his way out of the bloody mansion.

_**AN: There! Chapter 3 is finally complete! :D Sorry for the wait! But you got a bit of Allistor's POV this time, so that's cool right? Ah, sorry if this chapter wasn't the best :/ And I gotta say, it's so much funner to write in Arthur's POV than Allistor's, Arthur is just so amusing to write... Well, anyway! Hope you liked the chapter, and note that reviews are **__**GREATLY **__**appreciated! Seriously, just write anything and I'll be happy! :3 **_


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